Material Changes
by SpyGirl1969
Summary: Waiting for a contact at a bar, Lee has an interesting conversation with a stranger.


Author: KimC

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever owned, Scarecrow and Mrs. King. They belong exclusively to Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions.

Timeline: Very late season two

Rating: PG

Summary: Waiting for a contact at a bar, Lee has an interesting conversation with a stranger.

Author's Notes: Thanks to my team of betas for all their assistance. Thanks also to Vikki for coming up with the name of this story… I asked my beta team to come up with suggested names in a bit of a contest, and Vikki won by default. Her prize was to get a story written to her specs, and I'm happy to say I'm nearly finished with that story, finally!

**Material Changes**

"Well, it's no big deal," Lee said, swallowing down the disappointment he felt at the prospect of an evening alone. "It's just a contact meeting me at a bar; he'll hand me the information, and that'll be that. I just thought . . . if you weren't busy . . . but since you are, it's okay."

Amanda smiled, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She looked awfully good in jeans, he couldn't help but notice. She sounded genuinely apologetic when she said, "Normally I'd be free on a Wednesday night, Lee, but Phillip just let me know that he has a big science project due tomorrow and he hasn't even started on it. If he doesn't get at least a C, he'll be in big trouble. Both with his teacher and with me!"

"I understand," Lee assured her. Starting to back away slowly, he added, "So, I'll see you later, then."

She nodded. "You bet."

They said their goodbyes and Lee watched her go back inside and lock up, calling out to her eldest son, "All right, Phillip, turn off the television and let's see your assignment slip, young man!"

"Awww, Mom!" came the boy's plaintive response.

"No 'aw moms' from you, buster," Amanda's muffled voice replied firmly as she moved out of the kitchen, "You've had three weeks to work on this assignment and you haven't even started it."

Chuckling, Lee shook his head, wishing he'd had half as great a childhood as Phillip and Jamie King were enjoying. They didn't realize just how lucky they really were. He wished he could tell them to enjoy having a mother and grandmother who loved them as much as Amanda and Mrs. West did.

Lee couldn't get Amanda out of his mind as he headed for his car. She really was amazing. He'd spent enough time outside her windows looking in – just as a protection to her and her family – to know that being a single parent wasn't easy. She didn't have a husband supporting her, yet she handled everything smoothly and efficiently, and she held down a job, too. A job she was becoming more and more skilled at with each assignment.

Just the other day, Francine had made a snide comment about Amanda, something about her being an "average, ordinary, frumpy, run-of-the-mill housewife." There was a time he would have joined in, laughed at or simply ignored Francine's barbs, but for some reason her constant offhanded dismissal of Amanda was beginning to grate on his nerves.

He'd retorted something in Amanda's defense, but what puzzled him the most was the overwhelming need he'd felt to point out that Amanda didn't have a husband and therefore was not technically even a house_wife_. Francine's raised eyebrow and knowing smirk had made him quickly back off.

Arriving at the Beers & Cheers bar, he noticed that he was over an hour early. He had gone by Amanda's in the hopes that she would be able to accompany him, and he'd left enough time in case she had to get ready.

Lee had lately come to realize that Amanda was fascinating to him for the very reason that she seemed immune to the effect he had on other women. She was also completely different from any woman he'd ever known. He was beginning to view her as a friend, even though she could still be something of a nuisance once in a while.

He seated himself at the far end of the bar, the only remaining stool available. The man next to him saluted Lee with his mug of dark ale and went back to his conversation with the bartender.

"Yeah, Max, it's official; I'm smitten," he said, shaking his blond head.

"Good for you, Larry," the bartender replied jovially, grinning. "I had a feeling the first time you brought Samantha in here for a drink that there was something different about her."

Lee hated to eavesdrop, but couldn't help but overhear the conversation. Larry cocked his head. "You did? What do you mean?"

Max was busy pouring a screwdriver for the man next to Larry. He laughed. "Well, you know. She was . . . How can I put this? Wife material. Not flavor-of-the-week material."

"And you could tell that just by looking at her?" Larry asked incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief and amusement. "How?"

The bartender grinned again, wiping out a beer mug with a pristine white towel. "Listen, Lar, I just knew, okay? I see a lot of that sort of thing in this job. Guys get tired of the dating mill . . . they grow up, lose their boyish inclinations and dreams of supermodels, and decide to settle down. But when they do, it's with girls who are classy. Sweet. You know. The girls you date just to date are not the girls you want to stay with for the rest of your life."

Larry appeared to think about this for a long moment, swirling his beer around in the mug. "I guess you're right. But what was it about Sam that made you so sure?"

"Well, I wasn't sure she would be _the one_; that's impossible to tell," Max admitted, filling the bowl between Larry and Lee with peanuts in the shell. "But it was pretty obvious that you'd shifted gears. I hadn't seen you in here for a while, for one thing. For another, you _brought_ her here, rather than _finding_ her here. That's a biggie, my friend. But more than that, it was something about her. She's a knockout, don't get me wrong. But you guys started talkin' about her kids. Her _kids_, man! I remember a time you would have run out the door. But you were talking about wanting a family, and wanting to meet her daughters and her parents. You were hooked, all right."

Max topped off Larry's beer with a flourish and a wink. "On the house, my friend," he said, and moved down the bar to check on his other patrons.

Larry smiled, shaking his head. As if noticing Lee for the first time, he offered his hand. "Hey. I'm Larry. Can you believe that guy?" he asked. "He could go into psychiatry, and he doesn't even have a degree."

Lee shook the offered hand, laughing. "Lee. Yeah,Max is something else."

"He's right, though," Larry confided. "There comes a time when a guy realizes he's a man and wants a family, you know? You can't be a skirt-chaser forever, unless you want to wind up a lonely, dirty old man!"

Lee was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation and reached up to run a hand through his light brown hair. "Just how old are you anyway, Larry? You seem awfully young to want to settle down."

"Not that young," Larry replied, a bit defensively. "I'm almost 30. I figure it's high time I give up the bachelor's life. The drinking, the parties, the bachelor pad . . . after a while it all translates to loneliness. Pure and simple."

"You make it sound like a bad thing," Lee said, getting a bit defensive himself.

Larry shrugged. "For me, it is. When I met Samantha . . . Seriously, man, she just –" He laughed, shaking his head. "Actually she drove me nuts at first. She and her two kids moved in across the hall from me in my apartment building. She would knock on the door asking me to turn my radio down, or tell me that I should eat something other than pizza and takeout Chinese. I remember once I was with this girl, Dina, and we'd been out on a date. Sam brought me some casserole she'd made, and I introduced her to Dina as my sister." He took a swig of Budweiser and flinched. "Way to go, right? Great way to say, 'Hey, I'd never be interested in you that way, and I don't want you getting in the way.' I'll never forget the hurt look on her face. Never. Oddly enough, it was at that moment that I realized that I really appreciated her and thought of her as a friend."

Lee stared at him. "That's quite a story," he said, for lack of anything better to say. Samantha sounded a lot like Amanda. "Uh . . . you don't mind that she has kids?"

"I love her girls like they're my own," Larry replied fervently. "I never – _never_ thought I'd say that. I never wanted kids till now. But spending time with Sam, Molly and Sarah . . . there's nothing better in the world. We wanna have a couple more, too. Molly's eight and Sarah's six. Cutest kids you ever saw."

"Was, ah, Samantha married before?" Lee asked, glancing at his watch. His contact was now officially late.

"Yeah," Larry said. "The loser doesn't even pay child support. He hasn't seen his daughters since he left. He'd better never show up again, either. He doesn't deserve them."

Lee vaguely wondered about Amanda's ex-husband, Joe King. Did he ever see the boys? Did he pay child support? He realized he knew precious little about Amanda's situation or relationship with her ex-husband. What kind of man abandoned his family? There was no justifiable reason.

"What about you?" Larry asked, cocking his head. "Got someone special?"

Lee swallowed, feeling put on the spot. What was this, some kind of interrogation? "Uh . . . no. I'm not really the marrying kind," he said self-consciously.

"You'll regret it someday, old man," Larry said knowingly. "I bet anything you'll change. And soon."

"And just how would you know anything about it?" Lee asked, irritated. 

Larry glanced at him, narrowing his eyes. "What're you getting so mad about? There _is_ someone you're thinking of, isn't there? Some 'marriage material' girl, like Max was talkin' about. I can see it in your eyes."

"There's no one," Lee said forcefully. "No one like that for me. That's not my style."

Laughing, the younger man replied, "You sound very sure of yourself," he said, standing up and placing some bills on the bar. "Mark my words, buddy. One day you'll look back on this conversation and realize I was right. What's her name, by the way?"

'Amanda,' a voice inside Lee's head whispered, but didn't make it to his lips. The hesitation was all Larry needed. "Doesn't matter if I don't know her name. It's obvious that you do, my friend. Take a little advice from a guy who knows: don't waste too much time. If she's half the woman Sam is, she'll get picked up by someone. Might as well be you, if you don't want to spend the rest of your life lonely. See ya 'round, Lee."

Disconcerted, Lee ordered another drink, deciding to stay another fifteen minutes before giving up on his contact. He wondered what Max would have thought about him, had Amanda been free to accompany him tonight. He'd been in here before; this was a bar he enjoyed frequenting. Sometimes he was alone, and sometimes he was with a date. Would Max have thought Amanda was good 'marriage material'?

With a wry grin, he said a silent 'thanks' to Phillip for neglecting his science project until the last minute. Amanda King very well could be good marriage material, but Lee Stetson definitely was not.

Ignoring the little voice at the back of his head that was trying to suggest that maybe that wasn't as true as he'd once thought it was, he flagged Max down for another beer.


End file.
